“You don’t know,” I said.
“We have theories,” Eilrys offered.
“Share them.”
“When we’re sure they’re not going to send you into a panic spiral that ends with you burning down the castle.”
“I wouldn’t?—”
“You manifested shadow fire while unconscious three hours ago,” Shaelith cut in. “Forgive us for being cautious.”
She wasn’t wrong. And I fucking hated that she wasn’t wrong.
I let my hands drop, forcing myself to breathe. In. Out. Like I was in control of something, anything. “Fine. Then tell me about the fire itself. How do I control it?”
“You don’t.” Shaelith’s bluntness was almost refreshing. “Not yet. First, you learn to not summon it accidentally. Then you learn to summon it on purpose. Control comes after you’ve stopped setting things on fire every time you’re mildly annoyed.”
“I wasn’t mildly annoyed?—”
“Fair. You were righteously fucking furious.” Shaelith grinned. “Which is valid. But still. Baby steps before we teach you to weaponise rage.”
Eilrys shot her a look. “What she means is that magic responds to emotion, especially when you’re new to it. Strong feelings act as a catalyst. So we need to teach you to separate feeling from casting.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then you become very good at staying calm,” Eilrys said simply. “Or very good at directed violence. Preferably both.”
I wanted to ask more. Wanted to demand they tell me everything about Nyxaria, about shadow fire, about why the fuck I’d been marked with magic I shouldn’t possess. But exhaustion was creeping in like fog, heavy and inexorable. The adrenaline that had been holding me upright was finally giving out.
Shaelith must have seen it in my face. “Alright, that’s enough excitement for today. You need rest.”
“I need answers?—”
“And you’ll get them. After you sleep. After your body has time to recover from channelling enough power to incinerate four grown males.” Shaelith stood, all business now. “We’ll bring your children to you. Let them see you’re alive. Let them climb all over you and demand stories. And then you’re going to sleep for at least eight hours or I’m going to drug your tea.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
I believed her. Completely.
Eilrys rose too, graceful as water. “For what it’s worth, you did well today. You protected your children. You didn’t hesitate when it mattered. That counts for something.”
The words should have been comforting. But all I could think about was those four bodies—burning, screaming, dying because I’d willed it. Because some part of me had wanted it.
And the worst part?
I’d do it again. Without question. Without hesitation.
For Mireth and Eryx, I’d burn the whole fucking world.
“Thank you,” I managed. “For... this. For not treating me like I’m about to explode.”
“Oh, you absolutely might explode,” Shaelith said with a smirk. “We’re just choosing to be optimistic about your ability to aim it at enemies instead of furniture.”
“Inspiring.”
“I try.”
